


Eighty-Sixed

by Five-7 (Scubapus)



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Borderlands 3
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fellatio, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rarepair, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scubapus/pseuds/Five-7
Summary: Aboard Handsome Jack's casino, Timothy encounters four vault hunters set out for a successful heist. Among them is Zane Flynt, a fearless operative who is always willing to take a gamble.
Relationships: Zane Flynt/Timothy Lawrence
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Eighty-Sixed

**Author's Note:**

> I've been into this pairing for some time but didn't think, being so otherwise invested, that I would get to it. Now here we are!
> 
> Basically this is Zane being himself and Tim getting into it. It's a PWP that can also fit into my main fic, "Ultraviolet". I can't write a decent Timothy and I can't pretend to...but there's detailed smut, which is what I kinda do.
> 
> I'm tooootally disappointed in the lack of Zane bottoming fics. And where is all his cocksucking? WTF, y'all! You have a perfect gray fox to do it! I expected so much Zane smut and can't wrap my mind around the shortage. Don't tell me that man isn't stupidly sexy!
> 
> Srsly.

_**Eighty-Sixed** _ _(Casino): Being banned by a casino for foul play._

* * *

Next to Handsome Jack, Zane Flynt was the most confident man Timothy had ever encountered. However, unlike the tyrant of his very own unfortunate likeness, the doppelganger found the older man to be, well…

Ridiculously nice, if shamelessly brash. And handsomely refined, if stylishly rugged.

The middle-aged vault hunter was a conundrum if Timothy had ever seen one. When he had first witnessed Zane gunning down rabid casino-goers and loader bots, he had marveled at the operative's deft finesse and apparent fearlessness. The old man hadn't needed to deploy his clone or his sentinel drone in order to leave destruction in his swaggering wake. He hadn't even paid mind to the slaughter of fleshy bodies, or the floors splattered with copious blood and rubbery viscera, or the remnants of metal hissing beneath the caustic consumption of acid.

To say Timothy Lawrence felt _safe_ in his presence _should_ have been an exaggeration. If anything, the unstable mess of a body double and his scattered sense of identity was drawn in by Zane's self-assurance. It didn't matter how bawdily the Pandoran-Irishman laughed at his expense - often to his fractured Jack mask - or how hard he clapped the doppelganger on his back, nearly sending him faceplanting. Timothy found himself terribly intrigued by the operative and the air of invincibility he exuded.

It also helped that Zane was stupidly attractive. Sure, Timothy typically had a preference for women but something about the handsome man being so unapologetically himself was _magnetizing._ He was equally polished and uncouth, with an obvious taste for cutting-edge technology and a style that was ostentatious as hell. The same could be said about his personality, which was among the largest the doppelganger had ever encountered.

To him, Zane was a captivating conundrum - eccentric and dressed to the nines, yet he wore a loose and bleakly plain shirt beneath a coat that both looked and _smelled_ like money. That dashing facial hair he proudly sported was simultaneously rugged, yet refined. He was meticulously arranged but still so casual, Timothy didn't know how that was even possible. He supposed Zane had over fifty years of experience mastering his own unique brand of dangerous style.

Whatever it was, Zane had a lot of look and personality to him. And he had stellar mutton chops - how cool were they? That cocksure grin of his and that unexpected tenderness he used to assure the doppelganger that he was safe was majorly appreciated - maybe perhaps even more than either of them ever wanted to know.

It made some strange sort of sense that things would get _interesting_ with a man who so confidently exuded sexuality.

…

Eyebrows furrowed beneath the fallen swatch of his streaked hair, Timothy questioned the vault hunters' methods of determining who would babysit him.

Gone was the ruthless team that had rushed into Casa de Timothy in full deadly formation. Those same badass vault hunters had since been replaced by...well, a foursome that was so casual about _everything_ ongoing in that casino that the doppelganger found it borderline unbearable.

Timothy clearly remembered the entrance they had made not a half-hour before. He had about shit himself when the older man and siren had rushed into his hideout, Zane packing impressive Hyperion firepower and Amara brandishing the blaring tattoos of a siren. Both had looked fierce and ready to slaughter anything in their path. It hadn't ended there - the two that had immediately followed appeared equally hostile, one being a massive bipedal AI and the woman a significantly shorter, bubblegum-popping soldier.

After hearing the explosive gun battle that had overtaken the expansive Lotto Grotto, Timothy had barely collected his balls enough to brave their initial introduction. He had been profusely shaking and weary of getting shot to pieces when he had revealed himself. Having the vault hunters overtake his hideout had convinced him, momentarily, that they had arrived to finish the job - but instead, Zane's amused commentary had assured him otherwise.

"Dunno how these gobshites never found ye here," the operative had mused with ridiculing wonder. "There's _always_ a hideout behind waterfalls! It's _classic_!"

Yeah, well, if _that_ oversight wasn't a testament to the absence of brain cells aboard the casino, what was? For that, Timothy and his survivability had been grateful.

That had been a while ago. A lot of shit and murder had gone down since - but for some reason, the vault hunters were only deciding now that maybe, _just_ _maybe_ , Timothy wasn't safe without a guardian. He doubted it had much to do with the severity of the situation dawning on them since they were still so optimistic about everything. Maybe Ember had put them up to it. Whatever had convinced them, Timothy couldn't be certain. He wasn't even sure whether he disliked the sudden consideration or reluctantly accepted it. Given the circumstances - namely, how desperately Pretty Boy was getting to find him - he didn't have many options.

Now, despite their chaotically destructive progression, the casino-christened vault hunters resembled a somewhat _questionable_ band of heroes. Maybe, individually, they would seem more intimidating. Together, close-knit as they appeared to be, they came across as a weird bunch of buddies. To say they resembled buffoons was a _tad_ critical but then again, didn't all Crimson Raiders kind of fit that bill?

Timothy didn't know anymore. His chiseled expression had many reasons to appear dumbfounded - specifically as that eccentric foursome began bickering among themselves about who would stay behind while the others killed on ahead.

Socially awkward as he felt, Timothy decided to stay out of it and _not_ point out the fact that he had kept his own ass in a single piece throughout the past seven years. He figured it was best to let them conspire among themselves, all while he tried to covertly chew his fingernails.

Meanwhile, as he spared glances over his hunched shoulders, that diversified group drew straws. _Straws._ Of all their unique skill sets and various backgrounds, _that_ was what they came up with? Fortunately for them, there were numerous establishments around the casino that offered an adequate supply of plastic tubes.

Watching that team closely huddle together, Timothy didn't need to see who lost. It was obvious by the old man's defeated howl and the equally dramatic way he threw back his head, the ridiculousness of his action causing his human companions to snicker - and the bot to release a mechanical sigh. The way Timothy saw it, there was _no_ way that man was a Flynt.

"Feck no, I ain't stayin' here!" Zane griped, strange accent damn near echoing through the hideout and revealing it to everyone aboard the ship. "I want in on the action!"

Wait, so was this guy really like sixty-something or a teenager? Squinting his haggard eyes, Timothy decided he couldn't tell.

"Yeah, well, we all do," snorted Moze, shortest of them all and snapping her gum between white teeth. The helmet she wore made her head appear the largest, though. "Besides, you're so stinkin' rich, you don't need this haul! Learn to share, you old coot."

"One in four odds, Zane," the muscular siren was saying, her voice sonorous but exasperated. She repeated herself, shooting the operative her own version of a stubborn expression. " _Fair_ odds."

"One in four, me handsome arse!"

Moze blew a bubble, deflating it before scoffing, "Simple math, smarty pants!"

Still, the silver-haired operative persistently protested, stabbing an accusatory digit at his stubby straw before directing it toward the robot. "It was FL4K! They rigged it!"

The AI narrowed the green lens of its optical sensor. "That is inaccurate. Please supply your evidence and prove my calculation that what you have gathered is insufficient."

Zane opened his mouth to resume his argument - until the gunner cut in again. As she did, she plucked the straw from his wielding hand and, with precision, poked it behind his ear. Then, with a firm finger, she tapped its end to secure its position.

"Just take it and quit your bitching, gramps," ordered Moze, tone stemming from her military background. "I'm sure you'll keep Timothy _good_ company. In a few hours, I'll come to relieve you, capiche? Ugh, is it just me or does everything sound dirty?"

The general consensus was that everything did indeed sound like double entendres - specifically to Zane, who suggestively waggled his eyebrows. And just like that, his affable personality was back, the operative proceeding to assist his teammates in assuring their ammo stores were full and their grenades were plentiful.

It was clear Zane wasn't authentically put-off by his fate, particularly given how he muttered something about always taking first watch anyway. In no time at all, he was back to kidding with his comrades and turning the situation back on them.

"Sucks bein' you, boyos! Yer gonna clear out all the fodder an' leave the bigguns fer me! Winner winner, chicken dinner!"

"Zane," asked Amara exasperatedly, "do you even eat chicken?" She appeared to have her doubts.

He shot her his most dashing grin, followed by a flirtatious wink. "Aye, that I do! Deep-fried!"

Amara's response was deadpan, clearly expecting nothing less. "Figures."

How anyone could be in such good spirits on that floating fortress, Timothy couldn't comprehend. Again, he stayed out of their nonsense. He had been there seven _years_ and every day had been hell for him. While he _hoped_ the vault hunters were luckier than him - and they had to be because who alive wasn't? - he didn't think they got the whole spiel about _no one leaving the damn thing like_ ever.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Moxxi to scrape together a band of successful professionals and all. It was more his inability to see in them what that tantalizing barkeep did - except, of course, when they had barged into his territory and been _all_ business. The body double had to remind himself that it wasn't only his head on the line, which was easier said than done with an entire casino of assholes after him.

Now, Zane was all but shoving his team out like he was some strange form of father, calling out to his children fondly, "Give those bastards a thorough wallopin', boyos - but leave some goodies for me! An' I swear, if ye ferget to relieve me, Shorty, I'm gonna ditch Timmy to drag ye back kickin' an' screamin'!"

From the daring look Moze shot him and how the siren snickered, Timothy was convinced he _really_ wanted to see that.

...

Roughly fifteen minutes in and Zane was bored, and why wouldn't he be? It was clear he wasn't out vault hunting.

The operative had spent a decent amount of time thumbing through his ECHO, methodically performing an assortment of tasks. During one glance, Timothy could see the grizzled man sorting through his digital inventory and marking certain items for sale or upgrades. Shortly after, he produced a packet of cigarettes and withdrew one with his lips, stepping out to light it. When he returned, he smelled faintly of smoke. No surprise there.

Soon after, the doppelganger watched Zane wipe down the massive Hyperion rifle he wielded, his bare thumb ensuring the impressive feat of firepower was effectively set on corrosive. There was no mistaking the green glowing throughout its complex components. Following that, Zane spent a good deal of time sitting on the available bench, his boots kicked up atop the accompanying table. He whistled a merry tune while spinning his Jakobs pistol around one index finger. As expected, Zane quickly grew disenchanted with that.

Timothy observed with arched brows as the other man removed his glove and spent an impressive amount of time playing his hand through the water spilling through the maintenance hatch. Clearly Zane had passed the point of restlessness where he found creatively interrupting that fluid flow to be mildly entertaining. It almost made the doppelganger apologize for being such an inconvenience. Instead, he watched the operative shake his hand off and send a series of droplets pelting the tips of his shoes.

The mutton-chopped man was both calm, collected, and simultaneously fidgety. It was a strange combination to see in action and for, Timothy, pretty entertaining.

For as talkative as the operative was with his team, he mostly kept to himself in the body double's presence. They did exchange a bit of small talk but it never lasted. Timothy was pretty sure that it was his fault. Zane was more expressive when they discussed their mission and, more notably, Moxxi. At that point, Zane withdrew a flask and lifted it to his lips, the rise and fall of his Adam's apple concealed by the high neck of his black bodysuit.

Timothy was tempted to ask how long this 'shift' of his was supposed to last but refrained, uncertain how the operative would take it. It wasn't like he disliked Zane's company any. Sure, the guy was jovial. After having so many assholes try to kill him, it was downright alien to have someone be decent with him. Timothy didn't even know anyone as friendly as Zane existed in the galaxy anymore. The other vault hunters were nice enough but even then, operative stood out with his positively gregarious disposition.

Zane's personality came across as authentic. Even then, Timothy found himself battling erratic paranoia - but what was new? Lost soul he was, he felt like the operative would turn a gun on him at any second. All the niceness made the doppelganger outright suspicious, and yet Zane appeared content to lounge around and enjoy the company of his flask.

That was, until he abruptly kicked himself into an upright position and looked at a watch that didn't exist on his wrist. There was _something_ there but what, Timothy didn't know. His own stricken eyes didn't see any indication of what the metal band was. Leaning over his strategizing table as the body double was, he was close enough to see what it _wasn't._

For a moment, Zane's single blue eye regarded him thoughtfully. Timothy watched in guarded curiosity as he reached behind himself to overlap his hands and, straightening his elbows, leaned back to pop his back. Then, sparing a further second to make sure his rifle was arranged just so and propped sufficiently against the bench, reloaded and ready, the operative regarded him squarely.

"We got some time," Zane said casually flashing Timothy a cocksure smirk. "Let's have ourselves a feck, shall we?"

From within the flimsy security of his hoodie, Timothy blinked, suddenly far more startled by the older man than he had ever expected. Not even having Zane rush in, corrosive rifle raised at his face, had caught him so off-guard. He didn't even know how to respond - or even if he should. Had he even _heard_ him clearly? He couldn't have.

"P-pardon?" Timothy managed, unable to stutter more. God, he felt like a dumdum. He didn't know _how_ he could be too confused to ask Zane to repeat himself, but there he was, Jack's mouth gaping like a dead fish.

The way the tilt of the operative's lips widened into a mischievous grin suggested that no, Timothy _had_ very well heard him correctly, even if his mind still struggled to catch up with him.

Giving him a wink, Zane rose to his booted feet and chuckled boldly. He brought up one hand to appraisingly stroke his beard before pulling it down into a point.

"Normally I ain't into gettin' horned up on a mission but me boyos have it covered an' we got nothin' better to do! 'Sides, it'll make ye feel better, an' I could sure use one," reasoned the older man, confirming what the doppelganger couldn't believe - _especially_ with how unceremonious he was about it.

Even couples who fucked _regularly_ couldn't be that chill about initiating sex, could they? And here Zane was, having practically just met him, suggesting they get in each other's pants! What made it all the more bewildering was that Timothy looked like a bum Handsome Jack. Who in their right mind would proposition someone who looked like _him_? After all, the man he had been permanently altered to resemble was the sworn nemesis to vault hunters.

Timothy was convinced now that his pronounced jaw had never dropped lower. He was practically sweeping the floor with his faintest hint of stubble despite still being _thoroughly_ convinced that he needed to deep-clean his ears. In contrast, Zane regarded him so casually that it might have hurt the doppelganger's brain had it not already fallen out of his head.

Clearly his befuddled condition urged the older man to press further, though his tone was far from judgmental.

"Don't pretend ye only feck fer love," grinned the operative, running his tongue over his front teeth before laughing at the lookalike's miffed expression. "Yer that Timothy Doppleman fella. Gotta tell ya, boyo, I've seen _far_ better porn - an' I've starred in it," he added with a saucy wink.

Aside from being permanently enslaved by Jack, his starring in adult films was the _last_ thing Timothy wanted to be used against him. That really was a part of his past he didn't care to be reminded of, especially with how Zane used that truth to his benefit. Still, the _retired_ body double let out a single, incredulous laugh. Then he paused and repeated it again, shaking his head before gesturing to the operative with the extended flat of one hand.

"Waiiiit, _wait_ a fricken minute! First, you bust my balls over Moxxi and - let's face it - _everything_ and now you want them? Ha! You gotta be kidding me, cupcake."

Ah, damnit. There was that essence of Jack again. At least it gave Zane an amused pause. Little did he know how the surviving Flynt had been called _many_ things but never such a frosted confection. Momentarily weirded out, Zane wasn't disappointed.

" _Ahh,_ get over it, ye pansy!" came his raucous response, the operative looking much like he would have slapped Timothy on the back had he been within reach. He was quick to refrain from further ribbing despite grinning with glee, flawless teeth sparkling. "Ye deserved it! 'Course I gave yer tiddly bits a firm knockin', but now I got a use fer 'em! Promise I'll make it up to 'em."

Zane went on like there was absolutely nothing strange between them. "Honestly? I was hopin' ta give me langer to that fiery lass - an' I still will - but fer now, ye'll do," he said with a shrug - and _somehow_ , his honestly wasn't offensive. "Prob'ly no one could use a feck more than _you_ , I'm guessin'. An' if Ember shows up when we're gettin' down, then she can join us!"

Ridiculousness aside, Zane was right - Timothy _could_ go for some sex. He hadn't gotten laid in like _forever._ So his accusations were true _,_ but still! It seemed like an eternity since someone had come onto him. Sure, he and Ember had screwed a number of times, but that - that wasn't the same. At least, he didn't think it was. The performer had known him for some time by then and- and- well, she had made her move to try and take his mind off things. Zane was sort of working that angle but only as an observation. It wasn't like Timothy could refute facts. He was too busy dumbfoundedly and soundlessly flapping his lips at Zane's brashness.

Did that mean he was considering? He totally shouldn't be considering. But he _was_ considering, wasn't he? Besides the obvious, Timothy wondered, what was wrong with him?

Truth be told, he was kinda sorta _mostly_ heterosexual and had a curiosity that had lead him to fool around with a literal handful of guys throughout his Timothy days. As Jack's body double, he had to be willing to fuck anything and _everything_ the libidinous tyrant had. True to his nature, Jack had screwed plenty of men to get his ego kicks and so his body double also had. And doing it, as he discovered, really wasn't half bad. Then, well, he had resorted to the adult film industry to satisfy more of his dues. It hadn't been his fault same-sex scenes paid best!

Timothy could admit that Zane was a handsome guy. He wasn't _exactly_ his type, given his age and all the facial hair he had going on, but he could appreciate the overall look it gave him. Between his attractive, pronounced features and that distinguished styling, Zane very much a - what did they call it? - oh yeah, _silver fox._

The operative had to be a decade older than him. Maybe older? Not even remembering his own age, it was hard for Timothy to say. All he knew was that Zane looked to be in his mid-fifties. All that silver looked natural, and he had some pronounced age lines on him, particularly under his mismatched eyes and along his forehead. He must have done a lot of frowning in his day, though the doppelganger could hardly believe that, given all the smirking he had seen. Zane had some crow's feet too - _those_ he had certainly noticed because he found them strangely endearing.

For someone with a taste for older gents, Timothy could see how Zane would be hot stuff. He might not have been _his_ usual cup of tea but he appeared determined and ready. What more did a desperate man need?

Timothy couldn't decide if Zane had made a lifestyle of being so sexually promiscuous or if he was just too old to give a shit what anyone thought. Something about his mannerisms suggested both were true. Maybe the operative wasn't as blatantly indiscriminate as the body double assumed, but then he was still stuck on wrapping his head around anyone being attracted to his appearance. Sure, plenty of people had found Jack irresistible and Timothy had the notches in his bedposts to prove it, but _still_.

Maybe Zane got off on bumbling, fumbling guys like himself? Plenty of them existed. They didn't need to be injected with conflicting DNA to be equally disastrous. Or did the older vault hunter really think he would be helping out by doing him a favor?

"Wh-what about the others?" Timothy stumbled, not wanting to seem like he was interested but wanting to hear the answer Zane seemingly had for everything. Maybe if the younger man introduced _some_ reason for restraint, the operative would dissuade himself and _not_ drop what he was offering into his lap. "What if they show up unexpectedly?"

What _would_ the absent vault hunters think about them throwing caution to the wind and fucking in their absence? Somehow, Timothy wasn't convinced they would be supportive of that. Then again, didn't they know their own teammate? The foursome _seemed_ like a tight-knit group. If during their adventures, Zane made a habit of getting laid along the way, wouldn't they sort of know that? The others _had_ voluntarily left the two of them alone together. Or maybe they expected their oldest member to be more responsible than he was trying to be.

Snorting, Zane flapped a dismissive hand at him. "Bahhhh, they ain't gonna. I know me boyos. If anything, they're gonna get ahead o' themselves. They're prob'ly try'na avoid me makin' 'em look bad, honestly! I mean _eventually_ they're gonna miss me angelic voice, but _nahhh_. They'll lemme know when they're headed back. 'Sides, I can 'see em on me eye here."

With that, Zane tapped at the metal occupying his left eye socket. It seemed he was always wearing a smirk but now, the one he showed Timothy widened. "This nifty gadget keeps track of _everything._ Ye think I'd knock anyone's hole off without protectin' me own arse? Me boyos an' I already cleaned out the manky gits 'round 'ere but that doesn't mean more can't flock in. Gotta keep tabs on all me surroundings. Now that I've got an answer to all yer procrastinatin', how 'bout we stop wastin' time an' crack on?"

Despite blinking at his peculiar slang, Timothy couldn't remotely fathom how everything for Zane could be so _easy._ Compared to the mustached man crookedly grinning at him and looking _impossibly_ charming, the body double was practically hyperventilating.

Aware of Timothy's mental flailing, the operative tilted his chin downwards to further consider him. His visible eye wasn't trying to dissect the target of his proposition. Instead, it was apparent Zane was giving him a good, thorough once-over. In other words, the vault hunter was openly _checking him out._

Despite being concealed by layer upon layer of oversized clothing, Timothy didn't know how to handle receiving such shamelessly intense attention. He found himself drawing his arms up to his chest even as Zane rolled that eye at him.

"Don't get me wrong - I'm not suggestin' ye ain't a strappin' lad, but ye _do_ 'ave Jack's ugly mug," he unnecessarily pointed out, sizing the doppelganger up once more before flippantly shrugging. "Was never a fan o' 'im! I'm _far_ more handsome than that bastard ever was. An' trust me, I know 'cause I worked fer 'im. Not as closely as ye did - clearly!" Zane emphasized with a raucous, barking laugh, before adding with another amused outburst: "Thank feck fer that!"

Then, while Timothy remained speechless, the operative calmed himself. Only then did he smile more naturally at the younger man, softening his gaze to better appeal to him. "I know ye ain't Jack," Zane assured him, clarifying their differences. "I saw 'is head shot open. Shite, damn near everyone did. An' lemme tell ye, I'd never have me langer out 'round that wanker. He gave arseholes a bad name."

Timothy wanted to chuckle at that. He really did. Instead, he expelled a massive exhale of relief, shoulders dropping and his arms relaxing as a result. It felt good to be accepted for a change, even if Zane wasn't exactly sane. Still, he wasn't bothering to hide that fact...or his libidinous compulsions.

If anything, his confidence made Timothy that much more insecure. Submitting to his urge to wrap his arms around himself, the doppelganger bit his tongue. Without that, he would have stuttered out some total nonsense and stumbled his way through _God knew what_ _ **,**_ succeeding in making an ass of himself in the process. He was probably already accomplishing that between his expression and body language. In fact, Timothy _guaranteed_ it. Even then, he couldn't - couldn't say _no_ to that casual offer.

It should have been so easy, shouldn't it? One simple, two-letter word. N-O. He could even add politeness to it and say, _No thank you_. Given Zane's disposition - or what Timothy had encountered of it - it didn't seem he would be offended by the rejection. He should have expected it, for fuck's sake. Or was that fuck's un-sake? Timothy didn't know!

The way Zane regarded him was quietly amused but not like he found humor at the doppelganger's disorientation. There wasn't any detectable pity in his gaze. In fact, he seemed so damn sincere about his proposition that to Timothy, his following reassurance wasn't warranted. It did, however, suggest that there wasn't much to the operative's thought process.

"Look," he said, leveling with the silenced man, "I'm suggestin' we feck, straight up. If ye wanna, we can. If ye don't, ye can tell me ta sod off an' ye ain't gonna hurt me feelings. Jus' gotta make that clear since ye look like yer havin' an outta body experience." And with that, Zane walked near enough to snap his fingers some three feet away from that cracked face. "Ye still with me, Timmy? Blink once if y'are, twice if ye-"

The doppelganger reacted before he could think about it, forcing the words to spill out of his own mouth. He knew that if he didn't, things would only get more awkward - if that was even possible.

"If I - if I _what_?" he sputtered, swallowing dryly. Was he being defensive? _Maybe_. But it was for a good reason, at least so far as Zane was concerned.

The operative raised one bushy brow, very briefly surprised by the body double's outburst. Then, as though remembering all he knew and had witnessed from the poor soul, Zane nodded in acknowledgment and, quite possibly, to coerce Timothy to further express himself.

After a long moment, it was clear to Zane that his gesture hadn't garnered a sufficient response. With mismatched eyes, he watched the doppelganger's hand impulsively rise to touch his mask, likely reminding himself how he resembled a monster. Or was his purpose to feel how that broken exterior reflected him as a man? Regardless, Zane recognized the absence of Timothy's lingering touch. He approached the conflicted man to replace it with his careful own.

The way the older man cupped his left cheek in one palm and arced his thumb over the chipping cracks there made Timothy hold an anxious breath. As that callus touch traced along his lower lip, he reluctantly released it...and felt himself quiver from the sincere sympathy in that heavily lined eye.

It didn't seem to fit that cocky smartass he had encountered all along...and yet Zane offered him an unexpected moment of raw honesty - one that caught him in the chest like a fist.

"We're all wearin' some sorta mask, Timothy," Zane consoled with a commiserating smile. And then, like the quick flip of a switch, he cast aside the intensity and chuckled, now caressing the chin of that fractured face. "Think it's time fer a replacement, boyo. Maybe try a face of yer choosin' next time, ey?"

Slowly, Timothy blinked at him, the other man's words bringing him back to himself _._ The suggestion that he had a choice in the matter was... _sobering_. Feeling much like someone finally had hope for him, Timothy felt he could breathe again. And he did, his expression relaxing and his eyes softening appreciatively.

Zane, much like his siren teammate, must have had some strange magic ability - except the operative's made people like him. Whatever it was, it _worked._ Even despite himself, Timothy found himself responding rashly - not just that but _impulsively_ , like he was under some sort of spell with how socially appealing the older man seemed.

"I want to," he blurted out - and then instantly went to slap a hand over his mouth, muttering nonsensically behind it. Annnnnd there he was, being his erratic self again. He took a moment to draw in one single, long breath before blowing it out, his voice chasing it. "T-there! I said it! Now do my beautiful ass a favor, sweetheart, and shut your cash-strapped trap!"

Damnit, Jack again. Zane gave yet another laugh. He withdrew his hand to give a single delighted clap, causing the younger man to blush.

Regardless of that little mishap, Timothy _had_ admitted what he decidedly wanted. He had heard it his own two ears, even - and at the time, it hadn't been Jack talking for him. With his heart pounding so loudly in his head, it must have been a miracle that he had registered his own voice - or maybe he had spoken very, _very_ loudly.

Timothy didn't quite know what had happened, but when wasn't that the case? All he could do was bite the tip of his thumb and gaze sheepishly at the other man. It didn't surprise him whatsoever that Zane spent a long series of seconds carefully scrutinizing him again before a calmer smile broke across his handsome face.

"Wee bit like a giddy teen, ain't ye?" came his affable chuckling, that intriguing accent interweaved throughout, same as with everything he said.

For as intimidatingly close as Zane eased up to him, his touch remained considerate. With surprising tenderness, the older man drew a thumb up beneath Timothy's chin again and tilted him the short distance to his confident, mustached lips.

The operative's kiss was equally gentle. Chaste, almost, in ways that caused the doppelganger's heart to flutter. That comfortable sense of patience Zane exuded was more soothing than anything...and made it unexpectedly inviting for Timothy to return that intimate gesture.

The doppelganger found it dizzying how such a ferocious vault hunter could so suddenly become such a lover. Zane made the transition seem so natural - as easy as someone drawing on a cozy, oversized shirt. No doubt the operative underwent adjustments often, adapting to whatever his situation demanded. Timothy simply hadn't expected whatever was between them to take that turn. From how assertively Zane pressed into him, it was clear he had no reservations.

God, the vault hunter was a great kisser. The fluid skill he used to trace and then coax open his lips was like nothing the younger man could describe. Timothy only knew the wet glide of clever tongue, the brush of silver beard along his chin, and the coarse tickle of mustache along his upper lip. The culmination of that, added to Zane's rich musk and the scent of leather accentuated by his body heat, made him dizzy and caused him to clutch at the front of that expensive jacket.

At some point, dazed and aroused as Timothy was, he stumbled. It didn't make any sense to him, and yet Zane's solid body and capable touch stabilized him. He felt the other man's low chuckle rumble through his chest, one broad hand falling to squeeze his ass. _That_ had a yelp catching in the body double's throat, and he didn't like how horny it sounded. He had no clue where their impulsive tryst was headed but he didn't want to give Zane any specific ideas.

Truth be told, Timothy didn't know what was happening. The part of his mind responsible for logic was promptly cut off as the older man coaxed him into yet another toe-curling kiss. Timothy could only moan into it as one battle-worn hand rose through the nape of his overgrown hair, using tantalizing pressure to draw him even closer. The doppelganger felt lost in his own body and yet Zane's touch filled him with such certainty, he was willing putty to those impassioned advances. Unable to resist, Timothy found himself returning that kiss with increasing intensity.

The way Zane stripped him of his clothing was more efficient than the body double thought possible. It seemed the operative was every bit as familiar with his garments as he was his own, waiting only for Timothy to kick off his boots. Considering his outfit consisted of an outer jacket, a hoodie, an underlying t-shirt, and jeans, that was pretty possible. All too soon, even his boxers followed, exposing the entirety of his body to the older man's hungry gaze and the fine, wandering mist of the nearby waterfall.

For a man who piled on layers to conceal himself, the change was shocking. Second only to his mental disarray, the exposure made him vulnerable. In fact, Timothy didn't know why he allowed it. Shouldn't they have left most of their clothing on, making it easier to correct themselves if something unexpected happened? The doppelganger ordinarily would have...but then Zane was clearly so forward and self-assured, he couldn't help but submit to it, same as he had all his other advances...

None of Zane's gear seemed too complicated either, all things considered - at least until he stripped himself down to that clingy, armored bodysuit. That took a little more maneuvering for the operative to slip out of.

Unfortunately, Jack's look-alike had little responsibility for the piles of cotton, denim, and leather surrounding them. His hands had remained poised to help the entire time, or so he suspected - Timothy honestly couldn't be sure of himself. What he _did_ know, after Zane drew up that elastic material and exposed his chest, was that he was pale, littered with scars, and - as one would expect from his thick facial hair and dense stubble - quite furry.

Long after Zane had snapped the garment overhead and proceeded to ditch the rest, the younger man continued to stare. The operative's body was unlike his own in all the right ways. True to Jack's genetics, Timothy had his own dusting of body hair. Zane's was trimmed but denser and a slightly darker shade of silver than exposed elsewhere. Already, Timothy's hands were twitching to delve into that coarseness where it was thickest between his pecs and run them down the spread that trailed further - to places his eyes didn't dare go.

Even beyond his age, the vault hunter was in impressive shape. Zane was broad in his torso in ways downplayed by the cut of his jacket. He was muscular but sleek in a way that suited his height. It felt impossible for Timothy to trace every line of sinew and etch of strength...especially when his eyes grazed down, past the tight bunching of abs, to the deep vee of his hips. Beyond that, Timothy could feel an abashed heat overtaking his face. He resisted the urge to hide behind his hands, hating how he was so damn fidgety.

Zane's grin, when the doppelganger finally met his eye, was positively wolfish. Despite that, his voice was even, if curious.

"That _was_ you in all that porn, wasn't it, Timbo? 'Cause if so, then _clearly_ ye've been with a lad before."

Timothy was all-too-aware it didn't _seem_ like it - not with how he had begun wringing both hands together. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he dropped them - only to immediately run one impulsively through his silver-streaked hair, pushing it off his forehead.

"I-it's been a while," admitted the doppelganger, abashed to sound so sheepish. God, was he really blushing? He was totally blushing. He felt like a teenage boy.

Zane's hand was warm and gentle on his hip, his scarred fingers carefully guiding him closer.

"Can relate," he chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle noses briefly with the other man as he admitted, "Ye ain't the only one with a bounty on yer head."

Before Timothy could inquire further, Zane was teasing their lips together. It wasn't quite a kiss and didn't yet progress to one, but even then it felt just as intimate. It caused the younger man to pleasantly shiver and ignore the comma of brunette still stubbornly teasing his forehead.

"We don't gotta do this if ya ain't up fer it," reminded Zane with sincerity, pulling back a careful distance to stare into his heterochromatic eyes.

If anything, Timothy was surprised the witty operative didn't make a joke of that. He could have very well referenced his hardness, given it was literally _very_ up - much like his own. Then again, as a man, Zane must have known that penises often had opinions of their own.

Timothy was touched by the vault hunter's patience. For as eager as he clearly was, Zane was pacing himself and offering the doppelganger his consideration. Enough kindness showed in that single, blue eye for the younger man to trust him - same as he had all along. As for what that metal eyepatch hid, Timothy couldn't decide whether it was another gadget or concealed a wound. Quite possibly, there was an eye behind its illuminated stripe and the tech corrected it. Who was to say but Zane? As far as Timothy was concerned, it added to the operative's dangerous appeal. Even wearing nothing else, the tech suited him.

Finally, the doppelganger's timid fingers began to trace and marvel at the markings littering that hard chest, tantalized by his ruggedness. The more territory he explored, the more certain his caresses became. Zane allowed Timothy to establish his bearings before he began returning the gesture, running his firm, yet mindful touch along the doppelganger's softer torso.

Timothy found himself as fascinated with Zane's hands as the other man was with his body. Pale fingers grazed his prominent contours, short nails combing languidly along the wool of his chest. The doppelganger sighed pleasantly at the petting, convinced he had made far more reckless decisions than submit to the operative's whims. The sensation of having his nipples teased to firm peaks further solidified that, among other things.

Beneath the warmth of Zane's gregarious smirk, Timothy whimpered at each tender pinch and twist. Then again when the older man used that touch to draw him in, ducking his head to suck soft blooms of color along his neck. Invitingly, the doppelganger offered himself, his skin tingling wonderfully after so many years of neglect. The hint of Zane's stubble was an exciting counterpoint to the softer caress of his facial hair and flared sideburns.

Oddly enough, Timothy didn't feel all that physically insecure about anything but his face. For as long as he had been a doppelganger, he found some security in knowing he had _Jack's_ body - and that the one on display wasn't really his own. Somehow, that made him feel less exposed. Sure, the years since his surgery had taken their toll and he had gone a little soft around the middle, but nothing about the way Zane looked at him was displeased. Quite the opposite, actually. The operative was palming along his chest and hips with a grateful look on his visage - but _everything_ about him suggested he wasn't particularly selective.

Of course, it was Zane who took them further. His bold attention traveled toward the heat of their mutual erections, his grin widening. He grazed his fingertips down through the thatch of dark hair circling Timothy's base before brushing his scrotum and trailing up along his length, causing the younger man to bite his lip. That contact, however faint, made him whimper.

His cock was one of the few things that _hadn't_ been altered to match Jack - thank God for that. It wasn't like Zane would know better anyway. Regardless, the doppelganger couldn't honestly remember much of Timothy Lawrence's past but knew he had done enough locker room comparisons in high school to know he didn't have anything to be ashamed of...or had he imagined that? Regardless, pressed against Zane as he was, he knew his member didn't quite measure up. The operative was big and had _every_ reason to be as proud as he was.

Even then, it was clear the older man wasn't measuring. He seemed perfectly eager to enjoy his body. Timothy couldn't resist the pleading shift of his hips as Zane finally gripped him. He didn't need any more incentive than that, beginning to stroke him in a firm, practiced rhythm. That touch, so hot and experienced, urged pleasure through the doppelganger's nerves.

Timothy moaned, softly, as the operative gave him a possessive squeeze and began tighter, more skillful strokes. He could hardly register anything but the sensation inundating him, staring avidly at the fist working him with purpose. The more Zane increased his speed and furthered the twist of his wrist, the less Timothy could recognize anything else. Seeing those scar-tattered knuckles and the weathered back of that unfamiliar hand sent ripples of arousal washing throughout him. The way Zane brushed one thumb across his glans and smeared his precome in swirling circles made the doppelganger weak in the knees. Touch-starved as he was, he could only sway - and moan as Zane's other arm curled around the small of his waist.

Slave to the whim of that talented hand, Timothy could only arch into his strokes as Zane began maneuvering him. In effect, he was being led by his cock, shuffling on his feet as he palmed the other man's chest for balance. Soon enough, his bare back pressed against the wall, hung papers crumpling beneath him as Zane's mouth descended on his.

Deeply, the mustached operative tasted him, thrusting his tongue alongside the doppelganger's own before twisting and tangling them together. It was nearly impossible for Timothy not to feel consumed by him, his mouth filled and that hand still encouraging sounds of joy from him. The way Zane pressed flush against him, branding him with his hot member and suggestively rocking his hips, made Timothy feel both claustrophobic and famished for his more.

The differences between their erections were never clearer than when the operative, with practiced ease, slotted their cocks side by side. With their members aligned and delightfully trapped together between their bodies, they groaned in unison. That was all Zane needed to rub them together with a rolling grind of his pelvis.

Timothy tried to follow his lead, even as he gasped at that erogenous velvet friction and whimpered when everything stroked just right. Pleasure made the doppelganger clutch at Zane's strong back and dig his fingers into scarred ridges, all while arching his own hair-dusted chest into his denser, silver pelt. There was so much testosterone throughout the older man, he could practically taste it as the operative thrust his tongue between his lips, fucking his mouth with the same suggestiveness he worked his hips with.

Just the thought of them doing what their bodies so luridly practiced sent nervous exhilaration zinging through Timothy's spine - or was it from the physical onslaught consuming him? It was impossible to say. It could have been _everything._ Zane was thrusting their members together so skillfully, fucking them between the skin of their hips, that it could almost get him off. Or it could have been the way he kissed him, penetrating his depths in such a sexual manner, it sent molten heat rushing to his gut. Whatever it was, they were slick with precome and more drizzled down their cocks by the moment, accentuating each pass.

So thoroughly enjoying it, Timothy felt his head fall heavily against the wall. The way the belly of Zane's cock was riding against his frenulum, combined with his own tip grazing repeatedly against the operative's prominent ridge, had him convinced he could come if given the chance. And with how the older man lewdly grinned and kept going at him, Timothy knew that was all he needed. Between the act being so raunchy, and naughty, and impulsive, he could practically _taste_ the promise of orgasm.

As distracted by enjoyment as he was, Timothy was caught off guard when Zane eased back and dropped to his knees. Despite himself, the unexpected change had the body double backing his hips in the wall - and nearly away from the callused hand that firmly surrounded him.

"Relax the cacks, Timmy," encouraged the operative, blue eye twinkling good-naturedly. He watched the doppelganger part his mouth to give some form of response, but instead the sound that escaped him was a feeble, sensitive moan.

And for good reason - the way Zane knew to pump him gave Timothy the best sensations he had felt since - since he had been with Ember. There was no denying the technique the older man pleasured him with. The operative was applying pressure in all the right places, rotating his wrist as he worked the doppelganger's full length, stroking his thumb up over glossy tip and smearing the drip of precome earned by his masturbation.

Witnessing the hunger Zane regarded him with made Timothy weak in the knees. The way the operative wet his kiss-swollen lips had the younger man daring to dream what it, and his position, suggested. As if sensing his desires, Zane extended his tongue and ran it eagerly along that aching erection, expectantly chasing its desperate twitch. To Timothy, the whimper that escaped him was downright embarrassing.

That earned a husky chuckle from the vault hunter, who trailed that slick pink up along the underside of his cockhead. With relish, he licked up that sweet tang and groaned deep in his chest. Timothy could see the fiery arousal resonate throughout Zane's features, but even then he maintained some restraint. In favor of diving right in, he eased his mustached face to one side and ran the flat of his tongue along the belly of that shaft, stroking pleasantly up his engorged length.

Timothy could only moan, his thighs tensing and stomach tightening at the contact. He felt his hand react as though of its own accord. It was halfway to that disheveled spiking of hair before he faltered, somehow remembering his manners. He would have grasped his own mane instead had Zane's scarred grasp not intercepted and brought it encouragingly to the back of his head.

If _that_ wasn't permission, Timothy didn't know what was. He was more than grateful to comb his digits through that plentiful, silver hair. As he did, he found it surprisingly soft for how thick it was. Styling product? Maybe. He couldn't seem to care as Zane mouthed from his base to his slit again, that fervently dilated pupil burning into him. The way those lips hugged and sucked at his length made him dizzy, as did the deliberate way that stylish mustache brushed at him.

"Don't hafta be gentle," the operative purred, giving a devilish smirk. And with that, gave the doppelganger every reason to dig his fingers in for purchase as he greedily sucked him in.

Timothy moaned as Zane took the whole of his cock in one fell swoop, his eyes rolling at the abrupt shock of sensation. One moment, he was almost begging for more - the next, Zane was nuzzling his nose into his pubic hair and drawing wetly back, hollowing his cheeks and demonstrating the same absence of hesitation he used with everything. There was only insatiability in the way he bobbed his silver head up and down his sensitive length, causing Timothy to choke on his own breath and bite at the back of one hand in the onset of such unadulterated pleasure.

Zane was anything but a novice at what he did. He cupped his tongue along the smooth underbelly of the cock he sucked. He swirled back and forth with it between each enthusiastic pass, and it took _everything_ for the panting doppelganger to stifle Jack's DNA. However true it was, calling Zane a cocksucker hardly seemed like a smart idea, even if he suspected the operative would have laughed. That or taken it as a challenge. Already, he had more than proven that he was.

Zane was proudly and earnestly giving Timothy the best blowjob of his life - and he did it so easily, his blue eye aflame as he watched the pleasured twist of the younger man's face. As though made for the task, he breathed skillfully through his nose and repeatedly swallowing his length, Adam's apple bobbing behind the length of his beard. It wasn't that Timothy could see it so much as _feel_ it, a generous moan gusting out of him as those muscles arousal tightly squeezed him.

Between Zane eagerly deepthroating and sucking and licking him, the amount of pleasure pooling into Timothy's belly was quickly overtaking him and he couldn't resist capturing that crested hair in both hands. Utterly compliant, the older man didn't stop him - he only fucked himself harder onto that cock.

The operative made lurid sounds throughout, varying from chesty groans to intentional slurps between deep sucks. Lost in his own throes of enjoyment, the older man paid no mind to the trickles of saliva that escaped his gliding lips. And neither did Timothy, who gulped down open-mouthed gasps and bucked into that source of generous pleasure, unable to resist his urges. How could he when the mouth so skillfully working him was so wet, so hot, and so aggressive?

It wasn't only the bob of his head that caused Zane's neck and shoulders to flex. At some point, one of his hands had risen between the body double's shaking thighs and cupped that heavy sac, further consuming him.

The way he possessively palmed it, weighing and rolling - Timothy swore he hadn't felt anything like it. Of course, he _had_ but never with such intensity and endurance as Zane had, attacking his willpower from two angles and using the same attentiveness in each. If he had any doubt the operative didn't like giving head, well - that just wasn't possible. He was too generous, and too practiced, not to love doing it - and far too hard, each pass treating the doppelganger to a view of his dripping erection.

Zane was on a mission and there was no guessing what it was. The way he devoured Timothy's cock was quickly becoming overwhelming, and how couldn't it be? With the operative deepthroating him like gag reflexes didn't even _exist_ , the doppelganger didn't know how he lasted. Feeling Zane swallow him, rumbling in his own shameless pleasure, was rapidly forcing him to the edge. He could feel his testicles drawing tight against the base of his shaft, that white-silver beard brushing against it.

Timothy could hardly find his tongue, nevermind warn the man fellating him that he was so, so close - but he had to, didn't he? In case he didn't want to-

"G-gonna - if y-you - _oh god-_ **"** he whined, his fingers threading more deeply in that gelled hair, saying what he couldn't.

There was no hope for him, even as Zane hummed his prurient persuasion. There was no mistaking the salacious intensity in that single, inviting eye. For Timothy, having such a dangerous man fucking his own throat with his cock, combined with the sight of that mustache intermingling with the dark nest of his pubic hair, had him crying out in orgasm.

Everything he felt coalesced into one purely salacious point - only for it to break, sending a series of deep, blissful pulses through him. Timothy's winning hand flew to his face, enamel sinking in, stifling the pathetic sounds that poured from him. Even lost to his ecstasy, he preferred the vulgar groan that rose from Zane's chest and vibrated into his throat as the doppelganger spilled his load.

That was the only time the operative's eye eased shut, pale lashes fluttering as he drank each and every spurt. At the same time, he continued to palm at the sac contracting and throbbing in his grasp. Even through it, Zane didn't stop his motions - not even as doppelganger keened and erratically pistoned his hips.

Unbeknownst to Timothy, he had released the toothy hold of his own luminous hand and instead, used both to seize Zane's head, unable to resist thrusting uncontrollably into him. How could he not with how ravenously the operative devoured him? Even as one of the other man's scarred palms fixed on his right hip, it didn't resist his fervent motions. Instead, it stabilized the body double and assisted his motions, further encouraging the noises escaping him.

Zane's gulping motions only sent Timothy spiraling higher into that tremorous climax, his thighs quaking and knees turned to jelly. Only when the hardest pulses passed did that talented mouth linger midway down his shaft, sucking still while carefully embracing his overly sensitive tip. Slowly, the operative moved his head to catch that final spill on his tongue and savor the other man's flavor.

Had Timothy expected Zane to release him then, he was proven wrong. Even after he had gone flaccid and the other man had more than polished every trace of semen from him, he continued to work at him. It surprised Timothy how pleasant it was - and how quickly he recovered. With that patient mouth attentively stimulating him, it didn't take all that long for him to get erect again.

How much time _had_ passed? Clearly not long enough for the other vault hunters to return and not long enough for Zane's mouth to cramp. The man sucked cock like he fought - with tireless enthusiasm. Timothy found himself wondering if he fucked the same, his length hardening further in response. Finally pleased, Zane made a sound of approval and pulled off, releasing his member with a dull pop. He immediately grinned at his handiwork and rose to stand, palming his mustache and beard.

Jack's lookalike expected the operative to say something smart-assed, but instead, he aligned with him and brought a hand up to cup the back of his neck. Fingers caressing through the overgrown hair there, the older man drew Timothy into a kiss that penetrated so deeply, it made him tingle.

Rising into the inch that separated them, the doppelganger furthered the embrace of their mouths. Any hesitation he may have had of tasting himself was flung to the wayside as he pushed his tongue inside Zane and felt him respond with equal avidity, their slick appendages erotically wrestling.

Finally, it seemed some of the vault hunter's immense patience was waning. His shoulder flexed repeatedly as he gave himself a series of tight-fisted strokes and then, after pulling away from Timothy with a feral growl, chose his hand instead. The doppelganger allowed himself to be lead, stomach warming as Zane wrapped that grip around his veined shaft. His cock copiously leaking, even his impressive resolve couldn't resist the suggestive shift of his pelvis.

Grateful for Zane's generosity, Timothy was more than willing to return the favor. Maybe not _exactly_ as the older man had, given that he hadn't given all that much head in his day. It was intimidating as hell to follow that performance. Even at his best, he knew he stood no chance of stacking up to that. For all the porn he had filmed, Timothy didn't think he had more than a couple dozen male flings under his belt - but he did know a thing or two about getting a cock off.

The way Zane looked at him, hot-blooded and full of need, left him taken aback. Timothy became hyperaware of the sizable member in his hand and how ramrod solid it was. He knew what men craved when they got that hard: to fuck and satisfy their powerfully primal urges.

Feeling that thickness, the doppelganger swallowed hard - or tried to but found that the bulge on his throat wouldn't budge. Who was he kidding? His sphincter went so tight, he could have sung falsetto. He was, in less musical terms, terrified at the thought of _that_ going inside _him._

Fortunately, Zane noticed his reservation. It was quite obvious with how Timothy's strokes stilled and measured around his girth. Unaware that he was cracking much like the mask adhered to his face, the doppelganger didn't notice how he trembled or how his pallor further bleached. Instead, it was Zane who called him out on it. Who else?

"Oi!" gusted the Pandoran-Irishman, concern evident on his lined features. He reluctantly stepped back to give Timothy some space, even as his arousal yearned for touch. "Yer not goin' all panic attack on me now, are ye?"

Glazed, those heterochromatic eyes blinked at him slowly before Timothy returned to himself. He released the clench of his teeth _and_ his ass, forcibly willing his shoulders to relax down from where they had plastered to his ears.

It was never simple to stave his anxiety, but then Zane had interrupted at just the prime time. Given more, the perfect storm could have built up and blown Timothy over. Now, having only just benefited from pleasurable companionship, that was the last outcome he wanted.

To prove it, the body double ran his touch along Zane again, watching the other man part his mouth to protest before slowly shutting it. The line it left him with was almost grim, which _really_ didn't suit such a jovial man. That made Timothy want to kiss it off him, so he did. Whatever reluctance the operative initially felt didn't amount to much. It certainly didn't prevent him from responding to the doppelganger's convincing touch.

By the time they parted, their gazes were lust-drunk and their lips were swollen. United in their physical desire, both men continued to sexually mouth at each other. In between playful nipping and filthy sucking, Zane manager to speak. Timothy moaned as his hot breath brushed humidly across his stubble-abraded skin.

"No worries 'bout yer arse, boyo," he assured him, and Timothy never expected something that would ordinarily sound so funny to instead be so oddly comforting. Zane leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the younger man's neck, and then his lips, before he purred, "I'm willin' ta bottom. I'll gladly let ye flatten me."

As intimidated as Timothy had been, it took him a moment to understand. As soon as those accented words sank in, he softly laughed. Of course. _Of course_ Zane was. The body double's heartfelt acceptance of that had him nearly giggling with giddiness, his expression full of resounding relief.

Snorting with an eye roll, Zane pulled away. Hardly expecting it, Timothy made a sound of protest, his hips shifting to chase the older man's heat even as he walked back to where they had previously been. Surrounded by discarded clothing, the operative knelt to shift among his garments and efficiently located what he was searching for.

It didn't take a genius to guess what Zane wielded when he approached Timothy again. Still, his heterochromatic eyes eagerly fixated on the bottle of lubricant and condom the vault hunter produced. The fact that he came to the casino _prepared_ had the doppelganger raising a brow, breaking into his own grin. Zane was just full of surprises, wasn't he?

Timothy regarded him with amusement. "So what, you run around with those all the time?"

"Indeed I do!" replied the operative, brandishing the rewards of his efforts. "I'd suggest tryin' it, Timmy. Gotta be prepared! Never know when I'm gonna get a chance to shoot a load. 'Sides," Zane paused to frown at the flat of one palm before chuckling and shaking his head. "Saliva is shite with bad boys like these!"

Timothy didn't doubt it. He had calluses of his own and had suffered consequences after poor lapses in judgment. Not recently, though, given how being trapped in that casino wreaked havoc on a man's libido - particularly when he was too preoccupied with trying to survive.

"Ye wanna use this or no?" queried Zane, fingering a single foil packet.

Timothy knew what he should have said. Chances are, they both did. It was clear, from his nonchalance and aged handsomeness, that Zane had been around the block. It was utterly ridiculous to even fathom the possibility that he hadn't, particularly with the way the mustachioed man was smirking at him.

Tim had barely opened his mouth before Zane braces the condom between his middle finger and thumb and promptly flicked it - an impressive distance, no less - into the recirculating waterfall. He then gave a mirthful shrug, still palming the lubricant.

"Yer clean, ain't ye? As am I. Been too long since I got fecked that I wanna bother with 'em, honestly," he admitted with an indifferent shrug.

Timothy was back to second-guessing his own ears again. Surely Zane couldn't be suggesting that they- oh _god_. Even as the younger man tried to be the voice of reasoning, that clever mouth prevented it with another enticing kiss. The feel of that handsome mustache and his own audible shiver had the doppelganger opening himself wider, allowing Zane to hungrily dip and thrust into him.

 _That_ was how Timothy wanted to burn, his body alive with sensation. Zane's penetration was purely sexual, his skin goosebumping from it and cock brushing avidly against the operative's rigid own. In his haze, the doppelganger felt himself rocking against him, causing Zane to pull on his lower lip with a stretching suck - and upon releasing that pleasant tension, smirk at him with wickedness.

"Feels better without, aye?" Zane husked, hovering tantalizingly near. With each word, their lips brushed together seductively, causing Timothy's heart to skip. He could only moan softly as that beard tickled his chin, eyes easing shut at the sensation. Only then did the older man nip at his mouth and growl, "If ye dunno, boyo, yer gonna find out."

With a visceral pang of lust, Timothy swore he had never heard something so obscenely arousing in his entire life. Zane's blatant disregard for damn near every rule in the book was so wrong, it was right. Even shameless as he was, the vault hunter exhibited some semblance of restraint.

"Do me a favor though an' pull out 'fore ye get me all wet," winked Zane, though the licentious grin he shot the younger man suggested he wouldn't mind all that much if he did. "Know that can be a tall order, but I'd sure appreciate not drippin' when I'm engagin' the delightful locals 'ere."

Timothy didn't immediately know how to respond to that. No matter how far they went, Zane was so casually transactional about everything that it continued to catch him off-guard, even when by now, it shouldn't. The body double felt his face grow hot, even though he tried to subdue it.

"Y-yeah, sure," Timothy managed, biting his lip. To him, it felt like obliging was the _least_ he could do. He could see how the alternative would be, ah, _inconvenient._ How strange was it to respond with a thumbs up like he did? And how he affirmed it with a "Right-o. You got it!"

Chuckling good-naturedly, Zane directed his attention to their surroundings. He appeared to be on an assignment again, his single eye settling on the conference table Timothy had arranged. The doppelganger could connect the dots as to why it garnered the operative's focus.

"Figure my boyos an' I are in fer a briefin', ey?" Zane asked, giving his most educated guess.

The surface _was_ covered in obvious evidence. Timothy didn't know how to feel, exactly, about Zane approaching it, though he was momentarily distracted by the tight flex of his muscular ass with each step he took. For supposedly not being that into men, the doppelganger found those compact cheeks particularly inviting. Recognizing it, he could feel his own blush deepening.

Spared his colorful display, Zane set the lube down atop the table before pushing it flush against the nearest wall. To Timothy's surprise, he showed a hint of consideration and haphazardly stacked half the papers, only to set them on the far end. After a moment of thumbing his beard in consideration, he pushed everything further away before leaning his ass against the cleared surface.

The way the operative shamelessly brandished his erection, Timothy could only admire. He didn't know how he could stand being so hard for as long as he had been. Even then, the glint in Zane's ice-blue eye was one of anticipation.

"Gotta give meself somethin' entertainin' ta think of in case that meetin' gets borin'," he said with mirth, reaching behind himself to retrieve that important viscous substance. "Don't get me wrong - I'll be payin' plenty'a attention, but there prob'ly ain't gonna be much to this heist I haven't done before."

Timothy watched with intrigue as he popped the cap of the lubricant and went about tipping a slick stripe along his fingers, lingering only to smear them together. Then, as casually as ever, Zane set the bottle aside, turned to face the table, and bent himself over. He spoke like he absolutely _wasn't_ bracing himself against it and reaching to prepare himself for anal sex - and very much like Timothy had no say in the matter.

"I'll make this easy on ye," Zane commented almost offhandedly, and it took Timothy's dazed mind a long moment to realize what the older man was suggesting. It made more sense, somehow, when he gave a flippant shrug. "Ye've been through a lot. Figure ye deserve to relax an' enjoy it. An' me? I can do meself _juuuust_ fine."

He went on to prove it, inserting his middle finger into himself, face growing focused as he did. The doppelganger was fixated on how easily that long, battle-worn digit sank to the knuckle, the operative lingering to give a few slow, twisting thrusts. Whether he did it for his own benefit or his small audience, Timothy didn't know and didn't care. He, as much as Zane, breathed out as a second digit swiftly joined the first.

The doppelganger stared in no small degree of wonder as the operative worked to stretch his entrance. Those long, slicked digits scissored and stroked along his puckered rim, angling their thrusts. It wasn't until he brushed his prostate that his hole fluttered, a low moan escaping him. To Timothy, it had never been clearer how familiar the older man was with his body. He had never quite succeeded in massaging his own prostate and there Zane was, on display, repeatedly grazing his.

"Ahhh, _feck, that's_ the spot," he groaned, his visage tensed in focus before softening into pleasure. "Been too long. This is gonna feel so feckin' good."

Timothy's mouth felt parched as he watched the older man curl his digits within himself, a third joining the penetration. Zane was grunting with each stroke, and the blissful sound accompanying each pass drew the doppelganger closer. _He_ wanted to do something for a change, hand lifting and hesitating as though nearing something as invaluable as a mysterious vault key.

After a moment, he brushed his tentative palm down the silver glitter of hair at the base of Zane's back, teasing through the soft spread and thumbing the dimples there. Timothy certainly didn't miss the way the operative, so primed for his touch, raised his hips and glanced back expectantly.

Their eyes meeting, one corner of Zane's mouth lifted in yet another self-assured smirk. Clearly he had no reservations about putting on a show _or_ allowing Timothy to participate. He withdrew his glossy digits before giving a permitting nod of his head.

"Feck me with somethin'," he urged, tilting his hips invitingly. "Fingers, cock, tongue - I'm more than ready."

Swallowing weakly, Timothy wanted to do exactly as he had just seen. He wanted to feel, for himself, what was in store for his cock. He'd had anal before, but even more than that, he wanted to hear Zane make those same noises. Barely remembering to slick up his own fingers, Timothy thoroughly coated the first three and quickly put them to work, pressing them into that puckered entrance.

He didn't hesitate to drive two digits deep, hearing the juddering sound Zane made. It was his first taste of what he wanted - something between a grunt and a gasp. The operative hadn't been lying - he _was_ ready, his entrance stretching easily for Timothy's curious touch. He was so sweltering inside, his walls snug and smooth in ways that would feel amazing on his cock.

Timothy almost felt guilty for how eagerly his erection ached to be inside him. Why that was, he couldn't say, given he had more than enough permission. Even then, Zane was pushing back onto his hand, adding a tantalizing clench around his penetration - and released a sound of craving as the doppelganger swirled his touch along the anterior of his body.

The doppelganger knew what to look for and _boy,_ was it easier to finger someone else. And it wasn't like watching Zane massage his own prostate hadn't given him plenty of direction. There was no mistaking that rounded gland or the way the older man's breath hitched - or the whole-bodied tremor that followed as Timothy applied a firmer pressure.

Gliding the pads of his fingers back and forth resulted in Zane shuddering out a faint curse, his sphincter quivering. A string of filthy words spilled from him the more Timothy curled over his prostate. He could practically _feel_ that urgent heat pool in Zane's gut as he gusted out shivering breaths. From that position, Timothy couldn't see it but knew that thick cock was positively weeping.

Jack's lookalike was rapt with all of it and the way that silver-crested head fell forward, emphasizing the taut muscles at the back of his damp neck. Even the way Zane struggled to speak was crudely enticing.

" _Feck_ \- oh _gods_ , yes," he lewdly cursed, concaving his spine with a visible shiver. "C'mon now- _need_ ye to feck me."

Rapidly becoming overwhelmed by his own need, Timothy was eager to oblige. With one last deep-knuckled push, he withdrew from Zane's willing hole and reached for himself, wiped his fingers on his thigh.

Feeling empty, Zane was practically writhing now, lifting his hips in blatant offering - so much that the body double felt consumed by that contagious need. Reaching for the lube, Timothy nearly dropped it before his shaking hands managed to thumb it open. With one hand steadying his ready member, he tipped a generous stripe down it. Then, after sealing the bottle and hastily dropping it to the ground, he generously coating his velvet skin with the slippery substance.

One fang catching his lip, the doppelganger finally aligned himself behind the operative. Heard him make a sound of impatience that promptly deepened into a sordid moan as Timothy brushed his beading tip against that vulnerable entrance. He could only manage a couple teasing strokes, feeling positively aloft with exhilaration - until Zane pushed back against him, forcing his blunt crown to pop in.

A gruff sound of pain escaped the operative despite how willingly his body opened. Its onset caused Timothy to immediately halt his penetration. He may have gone to withdraw if the hungry groan that followed it hadn't otherwise encouraged him. Despite the wince on his furrowed features, Zane's turned face was etched with lust.

"Mmh, boyo," he breathed, accent pitched an octave deeper in need - and even then, his amusement persisted. "Yer bigger than ye look."

With that, the older man not only reassuringly patted the doppelganger's hip, but he exhaled deeply and pressed back onto him. The sensation of Zane greedily bearing down on his cock had Timothy groaning, his hips pressing inward of their own thrilled accord.

Quickly, he sank to the hilt in that hot, greedy tightness. The vault hunter's firm, slender ass was pressed flush against him, and even then, Timothy's attention was fixed on that lined, open-mouthed expression of need. Somehow, despite that feeling of utter fullness, Zane sensed the other man's eyes on him and opened his own, looking back with a chuckle.

"Feels good," he hummed - and Timothy gasped as that taut rim clenched around him, sending raw desire flooding his gut. At the twitch of dick inside him, Zane breathlessly chuckled and stroked his hip again, nodding eagerly. "C'mon, then. Have at it."

As inviting as the idea was, the younger man still hesitated. He drew back a cautious inch before pressing forward again, receiving a huff of disappointment.

"I don't- don't wanna-" he began - before Zane intercepted with the most lecherous laugh to have ever met his ears.

"Ain't gonna hurt me, boyo," he husked, reaching back to palm Timothy's hip and apply pressure to urge him forward. "'Least, not in any way I won't enjoy."

Zane, it seemed, wasn't satisfied by the gentle thrust that followed, and he immediately thrust himself back. Using his bruising grip to force them together, the hard colliding of their bodies caused them both to cry out. Having his cock so quickly consumed had Timothy staring in awe where his cock was embedded. Hearing the operative's delighted gasp, he didn't need any further encouragement. He took hold of the other man and thrust into him with relish, no longer concerned with holding back.

Zane, as Timothy more than discovered, was _anything_ but a submissive bottom. He gave it as good as he took it - willing and aggressive. Same as he did everything, he fucked with evident experience, his expression a combination of cocksure handsomeness and flushed pleasure. He squeezed himself at all the best places, rolled on his downstroke to grind his prostate, and worked himself to the hilt of that glistening cock.

"C'mon, boyo," urged Zane, his voice laden with wanton, "Ye can feck me arse harder than that."

"You sure?" gasped Timothy in disbelief.

Having already come once, his own needs weren't as urgent to him as his partner's. Even then, Timothy had never been a selfish lover, but he _was_ a worrier. Even despite Zane's request, he was reluctant. He didn't want to leave the operative to finish his mission with a sore ass, but maybe it was already too late for that.

At his insistent concern, Zane cast another backward glance and snorted at him - and then forcibly rode into the next downstroke, causing Timothy's thrust to collide with a smack against his ass. The sound and sensation were equally startling, and the erotic gasp Zane made was music to his ears.

The sight of that bearded jaw falling blissfully slack had Timothy digging his fingers deeper into the operative's narrow hips. He fucked hard enough that his sac struck perineum with loud, meaty slaps. The primal groan Zane gave, as he drove himself into his hammering thrusts, caused the doppelganger to join him with a moan of his own.

It felt so good for Timothy that he doubted he would last. Zane was just too hot and greedy around him, his hole gripping tight like a fist. Whenever the body double angled his thrusts just right, he heard it in the operative's gruff cry. The pleasure it brought them both only spurred Timothy faster - and even then, Zane's lusty demands tested his willpower.

" _Harder,_ " he growled, the ivory of his ass struck pink from each slap.

So awash in sensation, Timothy could only groan his compliance. Could prove it by pounding into Zane's hungry body, his hands moving to spread those cheeks so he could watch himself piston in and out of that willing hole. It wasn't long until the operative threw back his head, the silver spikes of his hair finally flagging.

"Feck yeah, _jus' like that,_ " he rasped, and his nearly whining undertone hit Tim hard in the gut. "Ah, gods, ye have such a nice cock."

Was there ever a better compliment? Not in that moment. With Zane's ass trying to milk him for all he was worth, nothing mattered but the feel of it around him.

For Timothy, their copulation bordered on violent and yet Zane thrust himself back with harder force. As aggressive as the vault hunter was, Timothy found himself using most of his own strength to brace himself against the barrage of the other man pounding back against him. At the same time, the doppelganger felt he had to bite his lip to stifle his own pleasured outbursts, feeling as though if he heard himself, his endurance would fray.

It did, anyway, when Zane turned his head to the side and exposed the sight of his sweaty face. Against his pale coloration, the ruddy flush spanning his chiseled cheekbones was vibrant and unmistakable - and the heavy furrow of his brows had a molten lust flooding Timothy's gut. The older man appeared all but broken, his hoarse gasps and groans positively primal.

So caught up in sensation, Timothy didn't hear his panting own. His ears were inundated with the sound of Zane slamming against him and aggressively taking his fill. He wished he could see the operative's cock and how red-hot it was. Wanted to feel the thick strings of precome that wept from it, wondering how Zane wasn't stroking himself. At the realization, the doppelganger kicked himself for hesitating to help.

Biting back his regret, Timothy reached for that steely member. At the first touch of his wrapping hand, Zane voiced his appreciation. He gave a heady chuckle that dropped into an aching rumble and then clenched his entrance. Cursing in surprise, Timothy saw Zane's crooked grin.

"Gettin' handsy on me?" came his tease. Even then, he wasted no time in plunging himself to the hilt, the brushing of his prostate causing the corner of his eye to squeeze tight.

Reflected in the operative's crow's feet, pleasure ran deep. Timothy could feel his own cock swelling with each carnal pass. Both men were perspiring, the slick fissures of Zane's defined back catching the light, his lumbar spine beading with it. The body double marveled at the sinew in his shoulders and the heady way they tapered to his slender, scarred waist.

Timothy was rapt with the sight - so much he nearly forgot the length urgently straining in his grasp. Zane's demanding moan snapped him out of his haze. With renewed determination, the doppelganger fervently stroked the erection in his fist, finding it slick in precome and spilling more with each tight pass. Between how painfully hard Zane was and how erratic his breathing had become, it was obvious he wouldn't last long.

Timothy knew his own end was rapidly approaching. How could it not? Zane's ass was taking him so beautifully, he didn't know how he managed to last. The operative's utter lack of resistance sent lurid pleasure pooling in his balls. His own expressions of pleasure were nearly incoherent.

The last thing he expected to hear was Zane go back on his own word. How he managed to speak despite each punishing thrust, Timothy would never know. Still, he heard that one last, desperate request.

"Feck what I said," he cursed hoarsely, and still he managed to sound so desperate. "Come in me arse, Timmy. Fill me up."

Overtaken with need as they both were, the doppelganger didn't dare second-guess him. There wasn't enough willpower throughout the six galaxies to stir up logic in him - not with Zane so hot and tight around him. Groaning his approval, Timothy could only work the erection in his hand and pound into the older man until he felt him unravel.

With a thunderous groan, Zane threw back his head, intensity shaking him to his core. His ragged voice sounded so luscious, breaking as he ejaculated, thick ropes of semen striping across the table. The rest splattered onto the floor and spilled across the doppelganger's knuckles, his hand milking Zane for all he could. At the same time, Timothy moaned and fucked him through it, forcing himself through his quaking embrace.

Bracing himself against the table, Zane worked to recover as Timothy continued using him. Even then, he managed to slow himself, using a series of deliberate thrusts to try and draw out his partner's pleasure. Whether it worked or not, Timothy couldn't say, but watching the vault hunter settle atop his crossed arms felt rewarding as hell. He felt himself smiling as the operative rubbed his sweaty forehead against his scarred skin and release a thoroughly spent sigh.

To that sight, Timothy reached his glorious finish. Had he not been overwhelmed by it, bliss pulsing rapidly through him, he would have been embarrassed by the nonsensical noises that escaped him. He cursed and _whimpered_ , thick hair plastered to his temple, heart loudly percussing inside him. Even then, he could hear Zane's satisfied, lewd groan as his cock rapidly throbbed within his stretched rim.

"That's right, boyo," crooned the operative, followed by a filthy chuckle as the man inside him lost all restraint. "Jus' like that…"

Bucking, shoving, Timothy could only ride out his release. With each draining spurt came relief. He didn't know how long it went on or how harshly he fucked Zane at the end - only knew that when he found himself, he was half-collapsed across his sweaty back and fondly nuzzling into his skin.

Why wouldn't he rest there? For Timothy, it felt like the stress of the past seven years had drained from him, leaving him feeling pretty damn amazing - even if two orgasms left him tired and lazy. Far from complaining, he exhaled happily against Zane and did what he could to savor the endorphins still flowing through him. For the time being, the doppelganger didn't know much - only that he enjoyed feeling the silly smile plastered across his masked face.

They remained that way for some time, Zane courteous enough to tolerate his weight before he finally drew back. With care, he pulled out, drawing low sounds out of them both. After a lingering moment, the vault hunter stood with a stretch, his spine audibly realigning itself.

In tandem, the two men silently dressed. Casa de Timothy seemed strangely quiet now, considering all the sexual sounds that had reverberated so recently along its walls. Now, aside from the constant waterfall, it was filled only by clothes shifting, leather whispering, belts clicking, and holster snaps securing.

When Zane leaned in to give him one gracious, affectionate kiss, Timothy returned it, aware it would be his last. Knowing that, he gave it his all and felt the operative do the same, the two of them refusing to part until it rendered them equally breathless.

"Thanks," was what the body double could manage when left gasping, wishing he had something better to say. Satisfied, Zane responded with a winking chuckle

Not appearing to regret their finish, Zane had Timothy direct him to the nearest facilities and politely excused himself. With a press of his handheld responder, he left his clone in his place, leaving the doppelganger to stare at it and miss his former own. At the same time, he found the piercing intensity of its digital eyes somewhat unnerving. It _appeared_ perfectly alert and obedient - and aside from being holographically blue, identical to Zane.

Still, the actual operative couldn't return soon enough. Timothy exhaled in relief when he strutted back through the door. The first thing he did was recall his digi-struct with a flash of flaking pixels. It didn't take long after that for the doppelganger to notice how Zane's devilishly disheveled hair was more arranged than their coupling had rendered it. Or how positively pleased he looked, even if he briefly frowned upon seeing that Timothy had wiped up his mess.

"Was gonna get that," Zane grunted, even though his signature mirth returned immediately after. Timothy just waved him off good-naturedly, still emotionally high as a kite.

"It's all good," he assured with a grin and his hands on his hips, feeling accomplished. "Besides, you're kinda my houseguest. And, uh, it's not like you weren't busy doing something else."

Timothy wasn't sure what he expected in response to that, but probably dual finger guns weren't it. Zane gave a click of his tongue before kicking back even more like he owned the place, stacking one metal boot atop the other. They remained like that, in comfortable silence, for what Timothy guessed had been about fifteen minutes. By the time Zane spoke up, he had all but arranged his documents atop the conference table as identically to before as possible.

"Great timing," commented the operative rather suddenly, his perking up earning Timothy's immediate attention. He glanced at the older man, who nodded toward the door with a strange explanation: "Here comes Mozes, 'ere to part the waters!"

Was that a reference to something? It had to be. Timothy was about to ask when the gunner marched in like his territory was now hers, immediately waving to Zane. From above the dark smudges atop her cheeks, her sharp eyes scanned the area and settle on him.

"Good, you survived," she snorted, and then raised one flat hand to Zane, who waltzed up to her with purpose. At the expense of Timothy's ears - and quite possibly their own flesh - the vault hunters exchanged an overly enthusiastic high-five. Not even the nearby waterfall could drown out its echo.

Zane grinned, giving a wicked chortle. "'Course I did! And so did Tim! An' so did you! What a bloody miracle!"

Raising his heavy Hyperion rifle in one hand and gently knuckling Moze's snickering shoulder with the other, Zane was more than ready to pass the Timothy baton. His lined expression proved it, the grin he wore unmistakably predatory and ready to kill - and like nothing between them had ever happened.

Then, practically skipping and not once looking back, Zane went to reunite with his waiting teammates, leaving Timothy smiling behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I tried to write a safe sex and a pull-out version...and my inner Zane said feck that shite. I need to lecture him.
> 
> Comments/reviews/hellos are always greatly appreciated! I love knowing there's support for these rare pairings and that I'm sorta doing things alright. :)


End file.
